One for the history books
by BlackNightmareDragon
Summary: A bunch of one-shots for the BTTF guys. Normal universe and where Doc and his family moved back to 1985 Hill Valley. There will be a lot of angsty stuff, warning you now.
1. An experiment gone wrong

**A/N: Oh look, more BTTF stuff. So I wanna just put up a place to dump all the little one-shots my mind comes up with. I guess this is it. There will probably be a** ** _lot_** **of angst. Don't like it? Don't read it.**

 **...**

Marty couldn't believe this was happening.

He kind of figured he'd outlive Doc, but not so soon. Not while Doc had so much more time left. He had a _family_ to look after and care for, he couldn't be gone _now._ Not when his two sons who weren't even teenagers needed him. Not when his wife needed him. Not when his best friend needed him.

He could remember every detail from that phone call. He'd been reading a comic book when the phone had rang. He'd answered it, automatically assuming it was Doc.

"Hey Doc, what's up?"

" _Marty,"_ the voice on the other end of the line was certainly not the one belonging to the scientist. " _It's me, Clara."_

"Oh, hey Clara," Marty corrected himself. "Sorry, it's usually Doc who phones me,"

" _Marty, honey, I'm afraid…"_ Marty could hear her voice crack in a way that indicated she had been, or still was, crying. He immediately dropped his comic book and held the phone tight.

"Clara? What's wrong? Is Doc okay?"

" _I really don't want to tell you this but… Emmett… one of his experiments went badly wrong and it... "_ a sob escaped her, hitting Marty's ear like an arrow. " _It exploded… he's dead…"_

Marty nearly dropped the phone. He felt like he'd been slapped. "Wh-what…?"

" _Doc's dead, sweetie,"_

Those three words stabbed Marty in the chest. He managed to croak a "goodbye" down the phone and he hung up. He couldn't help it as tears began to flow down his cheeks, accompanied by sobs and soon full on howling. He pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them, shaking violently. Doc couldn't be dead. Doc shouldn't be dead. Doc _can't_ be dead.

The door opened slowly and Lorraine walked over, frowning. "Marty? What's wrong?"

"Doc's dead!" Marty wailed, refusing to look up. He didn't want to be seen crying, but he just couldn't help it. He couldn't stop it.

Lorraine gasped before pulling her son into her arms, stroking his back and whispering softly, sitting on the bed with him. Marty wrapped his arms round her and sobbed into her shoulder. It felt as though someone had ripped his heart from his chest and was playing soccer with it. His best friend was dead.

Lorraine stroked his hair, keeping him close. She wasn't going to tell him that everything would be okay, because she knew it wouldn't be, not for a very long time. The kid had just lost his best friend, of course he would be upset for quite a while. She rocked him gently, like she had when he was a child (little did she know that Marty actually remembered none of that), stroking his back.

George soon walked in, frowning at the sight of his sobbing son in his wife's arms. Lorraine quietly explained the situation and he quickly joined them on the bed, wrapping his arms around Lorraine and Marty. He had never seen Marty so different from his usual self. Normally Marty was cheerful, slightly sarcastic, energetic and just generally _happy._ Seeing the boy in front of him, crying his eyes out, was a shock.

Eventually Marty's sobs quieted into the occasional sniffle, and George left him be. Lorraine too left soon, leaving Marty alone and asleep on his bed.

….

It was now Doc's funeral. Typically, it was raining, as it always seemed to do in movies. Despite his parents' encouragement, Marty wasn't using an umbrella, or a raincoat. He was slowly being soaked in his clothes, but he didn't care. Doc wasn't using an umbrella, so why should he? Why should any of these people be using something Doc wasn't? His wet hair clung to his face, but he did nothing to move it away. The rain was useful for one thing: hiding the tears still running down his face.

Naturally, Clara was the first one to give a eulogy. Her words were quiet, simple and punctuated with sobs. She wasn't talking for very long, and soon rejoined the crowd, standing beneath the black sea of umbrellas. Jules and Verne went up together, the two young boys not having much to say either. Marty admired their bravery - giving a speech at their own father's funeral was surely a very daunting task.

Then it was Marty's turn. He looked at the folded piece of paper in his hands. He'd spent a week trying to make it sound believable, but no matter what he wrote, it didn't seem like the truth. He screwed it up into a ball and shoved it in his pocket, before making his way up to the podium.

"Where do I even start?" He murmured, but the microphone projected his words for everyone to hear. "Doc was… he was just so _incredible._ He was like nobody else I've ever met," a sob escaped him, but he kept going. He wasn't going to let his best friend down with a half-hearted attempt at a speech. "He was quirky, intelligent, funny, enthusiastic and sometimes just plain _crazy,_ "

A couple of people in the crowd chuckled, and Marty instantly hated them. How could they _laugh at a_ _ **funeral?**_ "But he was also kind, caring, wise, thoughtful, sympathetic, understanding and… and like family to me. Because that's what he was, family. He helped me out when I was having problems, encouraged me when I felt down, cheering me up when I just wanted to jump off a bridge. He felt like my dad. He shouldn't have gone out this way. He should have lived until he was a hundred. He deserved to see his kids grow up. He deserved to travel round the world. He didn't deserve to have his life cut so short. It's not fair," Marty had hot tears streaming down his cheeks, and the fading rain couldn't hide them, but he didn't care. Another sob escaped him and he kept talking. "It's not fair that he was killed like this. It's not fair that the universe decided to end his life so suddenly. It's not fair that he died alone. It's not fair…" Marty sobbed again.

"But I'll tell you this. He's not gone. He will _never_ be gone. He will only really die when everyone forgets him, and I'm determined to never let that happen. I will never forget him. He's made such a difference to my life, more than any of you could ever imagine. He's forever taught me that if you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything." A harsh sob left his mouth. "I'm never, ever, _ever_ going to let the name Emmett L Brown die out,"

Marty lowered his head and stepped down from the podium, returning to his place next to Clara. The woman looked at him, tears of her own running down her face. "Marty… that was beautiful. How long did it take you to write that?"

"I didn't," Marty responded.

…..

" _DOC! DOC YOU CAN'T BE DEAD!_ _**DOC!"**_ Marty was still screaming as he sat bolt upright in bed. His throat was dry and he felt sick. Tears were pouring down his face and the top of his pyjama shirt was soaked.

The darkness of the room was suddenly broken by a beam of light flowing through the open doorway, and a very much alive Doc rushed over. Marty had been staying the night at the Browns' place on account of the fact that he was helping Doc with a project that was taking a while. In the doorway, Jules and Verne poked their heads in, only to be ushered back to bed by Clara. She must have gone with them, as she didn't reappear.

"Marty! Great Scott, what's wrong?!" Doc sat on the side of the teen's bed, looking him over with worry. He took in the teen's red eyes and the way tears still ran down his face. "What happened?"

Marty suddenly jumped up and wrapped his arms round Doc firmly, proving to himself that the scientist was really there. His crying eventually ceased and he became aware that Doc was rubbing his back.

"Sorry," the teen mumbled, sitting back on the bed. "Didn't mean to wake you up,"

"It's alright, Marty," Doc smiled a little. "You had a nightmare?"

"Yeah, you… you died… one of your experiments went wrong… I was at your funeral,"

Doc looked rather taken aback by that. "Marty, I can assure you that I'm not dead,"

"Yeah, I figured," Marty chuckled a little, his voice hoarse from crying. "Either that or I'm hallucinating,"

"I doubt that," Doc chuckled. "Now why don't you try and get some more rest? You look exhausted,"

"I _feel_ exhausted," Marty replied as he laid down again. Doc got up and headed back towards the door.

"Goodnight Marty,"

"'Night Doc," Marty replied as the door was closed again. He settled back into the pillow and tried to forget the whole event.


	2. Why Marty doesn't have sugar

**A/N: Ever noticed how Marty doesn't have anything with sugar in it? He always has Pepsi Free instead of the regular stuff, he refused to have any peanut brittle and he asked the owner of the cafe in 1955 for something "without any sugar in it". I've been wondering this for a while, and I've written this silly little thing.**

… **.**

 **May 17th, 1984**

 **11:36am**

Marty knew how he reacted when he'd had sugar, and quite frankly, for someone his age, it was embarrassing. He was fifteen, nearly sixteen, for goodness' sake! Plenty of people his age and even younger wouldn't react the way he would if they had sugar.

It wasn't that he was diabetic. He wasn't allergic to it, and he wasn't obese, so it wasn't for dietary reasons. It was something else.

"Marty? Can you pass me that wrench?" Doc called. The two of them were working on a project, an automatic dog-feeder for Einstein. If Doc ever had to go away for a few days, Einstein could still be fed without anyone needing to come round. It would save a lot of hassle.

Marty passed him the tool and continued working on the mechanism that would move the robotic arm. The idea was that, at a pre-programmed time each day, a dog-food can would be grabbed by the arm, swung round to the tin opener and opened. The arm would then move round and turn the can upside down, releasing the food into Einstein's bowl. The arm would finally swing round and discard the empty can in the trash before returning to its default position.

A little while later, they decided to take a break. Doc made them both a cup of coffee while Marty sat on the sofa, tuning his guitar. Doc had put sugar in both coffee cups without realising it and brought them over, handing one to Marty and drinking his own.

Marty didn't notice that there was sugar in the coffee. Although, once he'd finished the mug, it started to take affect. He began acting childishly, something that was rather surprising to the scientist. He looked up at Doc and began talking, his words coming out so fast that the scientist barely had time to register what he was saying as he was bombarded with Marty's speech.

"Hey Doc? I really should teach you how to skateboard some time. It's really fun and you don't have to walk anywhere, although you can't use it in malls and stuff or you get told off and these guys will come along and confiscate it which is really mean and it takes you ages to get the board back. For some reason they always target me even if I'm not using it they have some grudge against me and it isn't fair-"

"Whoa Marty! Calm down!" Doc put his hands up. "You're talking at a million miles an hour!"

"Am not!" Marty giggled. Yes, _giggled._ "I'm talking at a perfectly-normal-human-rate-of-talking. I have no idea what you're talking about!"

Doc hid the smirk appearing on his face. "You're talking way too fast, calm down,"

Marty seemed to find this funny, and got up, grabbing a wrench and running off with it. Doc rolled his eyes and walked after him, only for the teen to run around him to the other side of the lab, jumping over things.

 _Oh I know what's happened,_ the scientist thought with a smirk. He ran forward, trying to snatch the wrench back from Marty.

Marty only ran off again, giggling. He wasn't entirely aware of how he was acting. He jumped onto and over the sofa.

Doc smirked, sneaking up on him. He lunged forward and grabbed Marty's arm, pulling the wrench from his hands. Marty jabbed him in the ribs with a finger and he inadvertently let go, causing the teenager to run off again and this time he put on Doc's mind-reading helmet. It was huge, and Marty looked like an oddly-deformed mushroom when he put it on.

"Great Scott!" He exclaimed in a very bad imitation of the scientist. "This helmet makes me look like a complete twat!"

In retaliation, Doc took Marty's guitar and started playing it - _very badly._ It sounded as if the guitar had been in a horrific accident and was dying painfully. "Oh look at me! I'm Marty and I spend all my time trying to be famous but really all I do is skateboard around and try to be cool!"

"I'm Emmett and I spend all my time in a garage building useless pieces of junk because I'm so smart!" Marty started whacking the half-complete dog feeder with the wrench, clearly showing he had no clue what to do.

Doc snorted with laughter and began wheeling Marty's skateboard back and forth with one foot. "I'm always late for school and the teachers hate me but it's not my fault!"

Marty giggled again and took the helmet off, poking Doc in the ribs again. He laughed and ran off, clutching another wrench in his hand. Doc ran after him, smirking. He wasn't as fast as Marty, and that soon became obvious to the teen.

"Slowcoach!" Marty yelled over his shoulder, easily outpacing Doc as he ran around the lab.

Doc rolled his eyes and stopped running, watching as Marty stopped and caught his breath. If this was what the teenager was like after having sugar, he'd have to give him some more often. It was really amusing, especially considering the fact that the camera he'd set up in the corner for security purposes had caught the whole thing.

Marty threw the wrench onto the table and sat down, still panting. Doc raised an eyebrow at him, his arms crossed. "Had enough?"

Marty shrugged and went back to tuning his guitar, acting as though nothing had happened. "Don't be so immature,"

Doc scoffed. "Hypocrite,"

Doc had never expected Marty to be the sort of person to react to sugar in that way. Had he been six years old, it may have been normal, but at fifteen? That wasn't exactly normal behaviour for a teenager, although it was quite frankly hilarious.

And he had the video tape to prove it.


	3. The accident

**A/N: Nope, not an update. Well, sorta. This was really bugging me. At first, I thought it would be OK, but then it just started nagging at my mind. I realised Doc would almost never react like that, especially not to Marty. That's why I've edited this chapter to make it seem more natural.**

 **In response to GuesttotheFuture: Wow, I didn't know that. Hehe, I suppose I should have researched that, but I just thought that the idea of Marty being a little hyperactive with sugar would be amusing. Thanks for clearing that up!**

...

Marty stood at the top of the stairs in horror. He hadn't meant it! It was an accident, he never meant to hurt her like that! First he'd broken one of Doc's projects, then he'd had a fight with the scientist's wife and now he'd pushed her down the stairs!

It was a complete accident. She had asked her what was wrong when Marty had gone to get his coat from where he'd left it upstairs and he'd began ranting about Doc. Clara had argued that Marty was acting rashly and an argument had ensued.

At the bottom of the stairs laid Clara, a gash on the side of her head. She had a broken wrist and was trying to get up. Doc had heard the crash and Clara's scream and had run over. At the sight of Marty at the top of the stairs and his injured wife at the bottom, his mind went into overdrive. "What happened?!"

"I didn't mean it!" Marty exclaimed. His eyes were wild and scared. "It was an accident!"

Doc knelt down and helped Clara up gently. He guided her over to a chair and sat her down, getting the first aid kit.

Marty darted down the stairs and towards the front door. He couldn't bear the thought of being there any longer. Doc called for him to wait, but he was already out of there and running towards his truck. He jammed the keys into the ignition and drove off quickly.

The roads were congested and most of the cars were at a standstill. Streets were blocked for as far as Marty could see. It was already getting dark and there was plenty of traffic on the roads leading towards Lyon Estates. Marty wanted to get home quickly, so he decided to take a detour down a small country road running around the edge of Hill Valley.

There were no street lights on this particular section of road, so it was pretty dark. As Marty drove round a corner, something ran out in front of the car. He swerved to the left in an attempt to avoid it but his truck rolled over, off the road and into a ditch.

Marty had been thrown from the truck through the windshield and his headlights had been shattered, meaning that there was now no light. Both of his legs were trapped beneath the vehicle's engine. He tried to move, but pain shot through his legs, indicating that they had been crushed by the weight.

He was lying in a ditch, trapped beneath a car with no headlights and he didn't have a radio or anything with him that he could use to call for help. He was stuck.

"Help!" he shouted, trying desperately to attract someone's attention, but his attempts were in vain. "HELP!"

Realisation dawned on him: he wouldn't be getting out of this mess for a while. Tears began welling up in his eyes and spilling down his cheeks as he started to sob. He was stuck here. As if to make matters worse, it started to rain. The cold water ran down his neck and after discovering that one of his hands was broken too, he could barely shield himself. He was freezing, but perhaps the biggest concern was the fact that the ditch was beginning to fill up with water. It was already getting harder to keep his head above water.

Thankfully, that rain just seemed to be a shower as it soon stopped. Half of Marty's head was engulfed in water and he had inhaled some of it. He coughed periodically, trying to rid himself of the water in his lungs.

He didn't know how long he'd been there, but soon he heard the wheels of a vehicle approaching. His hopes immediately skyrocketed and he shouted out. "HELP!"

He heard the car pull to a stop and someone got out. He heard footsteps and soon a flashlight was shone in his face.

A woman gasped. "Oh my gosh... MATT!" she shrieked, presumably at her husband. "There's a young man here who's injured. Go and call for help!"

A shout of "On it!" came from where the car was before Marty heard it drive off to go and find a phone. The woman knelt in the ditch beside Marty.

"What happened?"

"I-I was driving home from a f-friend's house and something ran out in f-front of my truck," Marty tried to disguise the sobs in his voice, but he couldn't stop crying. "I tried to av-avoid it but my truck flew off the road a-and I got knocked through the windshield,"

He felt the woman run her hand underneath his head, holding it out of the water. He started coughing again as he tried to clear his lungs of water.

"What's your name?" the woman asked.

"M-Marty, Marty McFly,"

"Well Marty, you're gonna be fine," the woman ran her thumb across his cheek.

Marty was still shaking, but as the fear of not being found began to recede, he became aware of a dull pain in his left side and as he shifted slightly, he yelped.

"Stay still, sweetie," the woman said. "You're hurt, but an ambulance should come soon."

Soon enough, a siren could be heard and Marty was aware of blue flashing lights. He could see that the fire department had arrived as well. After some ropes were tied around the truck, he felt the weight get lifted from his legs.

Four paramedics ran forward and carefully lifted him onto a stretcher. He was loaded into the ambulance and an oxygen mask was placed over his face. The fatigue soon caught up to him and he passed out.

It took a week for him to wake up. Both of his legs were broken badly, he had three cracked ribs, a concussion, his left wrist was broken and he had had some internal bleeding. His parents and girlfriend had visited him a lot, but one day he received the one visitor he had been waiting for.

Doc stood in the doorway, an expression of concern and worry painted across his face. "Marty?"

Marty looked across to him. "Hey Doc, c'mon over,"

Doc accepted the invitation and placed himself in a chair by the teen's bedside. "How are you doing?"

"Not too great," Marty murmured. "I still have to have this ridiculous IV in and I can't lie on my back at all. The doctors said I'm gonna need a wheelchair when I get out of here,"

"I'm sorry to hear that," Doc replied, squeezing Marty's hand. "I'm sorry you got into this mess,"

"It's my own fault. Instead of just waiting in traffic I took a country road that was dark and had loads of blind corners," Marty sighed. "I haven't been driving that long so I don't know what I was thinking,"

"It wasn't your fault," The scientist said gently. "It was an accident. Your truck can be replaced, you can't,"

Marty shrugged a little. "I s'pose. I'm still gutted that it got written off, though."

Doc ruffled his hair lightly. "Well I'm sure we can get you another one when you're better,"

Marty nodded slightly. He realised that his recovery was going to be difficult, what with both of his legs and one of his wrists broken. His legs still hurt a lot and the idea of him hauling himself in and out of a wheelchair was a pretty embarassing one. He'd played wheelchair basketball at school before (they had had to do it as part of a PE lesson) but being confined to one for about a month was upsetting.

Doc noticed his expression and ran a hand across Marty's face gently. Marty leant his head into the touch; it was comforting to him. The scientist shifted so he was sitting beside Marty on the bed, one arm around the teenager. Marty leant against the scientist. He managed to relax and almost felt like drifting off again. Doc rubbed his arm gently.

The pair sat in silence like that for a while, and when Doc moved to get up, he realised Marty had fallen asleep. He didn't want to leave, and since Marty's parents had told the nurses he was allowed to stay overnight as Marty's legal guardian, he didn't have to.

He carefully kicked his shoes off and pulled the blanket up over both of them, staying in a sitting position with Marty lying against him. He was mindful of the teen's injuries as he made sure they were covered with the blanket as he too drifted off.


	4. Get Tannen!

**A/N: Alright, this particular one-shot is set during the events of the BTTF game, episode 2: Get Tannen! For those of you who aren't familiar with it, it takes place in 1986. Doc has been missing for a few months, and the automatic retrieval system built into the DeLorean causes it to appear outside Doc's garage on May 14, 1986. Marty has to go back to 1931 to retrieve Doc, who was mistaken for an arsonist who blew up a speakeasy. Marty has to enlist the help of Teenage Doc, who has been working on a rocket-powered drill, which Marty needs to break 1986 Doc out of jail. But Young Doc has to deliver a subpoena to Marty's granddad, Arthur, calling him to court to give information about the illegal booze activities being performed by Kid Tannen, Biff's dad. The subpoena causes Arthur to be beaten up by Kid's gang and left for dead on the courthouse steps, and after saving him, Marty returns to 1986, only to find that the Tannens are the fifth most powerful crime family in California. When Marty returns home, the three Tannen brothers (Biff, Cliff and Riff) attempt to beat him up with baseball bats.**

 **So this is a little what-if scenario which may have taken place if Marty hadn't used a bug-zapper to knock out the three Tannens.**

 **Whew, that was a long author's note. Oh well, onward!**

…

"Dad! Dad, it's me!" Marty called through the door. "Please, just open up!"

"If that's really you, Marty, tell me something only the real Marty would know!" George yelled back. Fear was clearly present in his voice.

"Umm… uhh… I've got a scar on my left knee!" Marty called.

"Oh yeah?" Lorraine said. "From what?"

"Skateboarding down the courthouse steps when I was twelve!"

"Oh my God…" Lorraine murmured. "It's him! George, let him in!"

Marty breathed a sigh of relief as he heard several locks being opened. The door to his family home swung open and he gasped. His father was in a wheelchair, looking badly hurt. His head was laid on one side, but he was grinning.

"Oh my God Dad!" Marty backed up a little bit. "What happened to you?!"

"The same thing that's about to happen to you, butthead!" A snarl from behind him made Marty whirl around. The front door of his home slammed shut and he was faced with a seething Biff Tannen.

"H-hey now," Marty put his hands in front of him, pressing his back against the wall. "I'm sure we can settle this…"

Two people stepped out from behind Biff's back and Marty gulped. They _looked_ like Biff, but he wasn't sure. "Who are they?"

"Oh yeah, like you don't know Cliff and Riff," Biff scoffed. Marty held back a sigh. What was it with the Tannens and ridiculous names?

"Whoa, hey now fellas, I don't want any trouble…" Marty attempted to make a break for it, but Riff stood in front of him, blocking his way.

"Well, you've got trouble. We told you to stay outta Hill Valley!" He snapped.

Marty looked over the men's shoulders. "What the hell is that?!"

The three heads turned and Marty tried to run for it again. Cliff turned to him and stuck his foot out, causing Marty to trip and fall. As he scrambled to his feet, the group surrounded him.

"Nobody messes with the Tannen family!" Biff roared, bringing his baseball bat down hard on Marty's shoulder.

The teenager cried out in pain and he could have sworn he heard something snap. He stumbled to the side, only for Cliff to smash his golf club into Marty's ribs. That knocked the wind out of him and he fell to his knees. Riff kicked Marty in the face, sending the teenager flying backwards into the wall. The trio of troublemaking Tannens continued to beat him, causing Marty to curl up into a ball, wrapping his arms around his head in a futile attempt to protect himself.

The weapons came down hard on his small body. They struck him with enough force to break his bones in a single hit, without sustaining any damage themselves. He cried out as he was struck multiple times, especially on his sides and back. He kept hearing the sickening crack of bones shattering, and he just hoped that this would all be over soon. Tears streamed from his eyes, caused by the pain he was in.

"Pathetic!" Biff spat on the ground next to him. "Just like all McFlys ever were!"

His two brothers laughed obnoxiously in agreement and continued to bring the weapons down upon him. They seemed to find enjoyment from watching Marty in pain and got even more enjoyment from being the ones _inflicting_ the pain. He was their chew-toy, and they were slowly beating him to a pulp.

While this was going on, Kid got out of the black limousine parked on the McFly driveway and walked up to the front door. He appeared not to care about the beating going on beside him as he strode forwards and knocked on the door.

"Please! Don't hurt Marty anymore! We've got the money right here!" George's trembling voice called as he pulled the door open, quickly shoving a briefcase at the man. "Now leave him alone!"

Kid opened the case, smirking as he noticed it was full of dollar bills. He sneered at the family, before walking away without so much as a "thank you". He heard the door slam shut behind him and he looked over to his sons.

"Boys! We've got what we came for, we can leave," he said, and like obedient dogs, the three Tannen brothers left Marty on the ground and walked back over to the limo, their various weapons resting on their shoulders. They got back into the limo and left.

Marty couldn't breathe. He attempted to lift his head up and almost gagged at the sight of the blood - _his_ blood - on the ground. The red liquid was running steadily down his face and across the corner of his mouth. Every bone in his body felt as though it was broken. He reached forward weakly with one arm, wincing and trying not to scream. He was dizzy and in pain. His parents didn't come out to see him - they were petrified that the Tannens might come back and finish the job. They didn't call an ambulance either - by doing that, the police would find out what had happened and they'd be in for it.

Marty lifted his head up again to see the DeLorean come to a stop by his driveway. Doc must have spotted him as he immediately got out and rushed over, paying no mind to the fact that the keys were still in the car. He knelt down beside Marty and lifted the broken teen up to lean him against him, keeping his arms around him protectively.

The teenager coughed weakly but looked up at the scientist. In his dazed state, he could barely make out the features in Doc's face. "D-Doc…?"

"Great Scott, Marty! What happened?!" The scientist exclaimed, wiping some of the blood from Marty's head.

"T-Tannens," Marty coughed hard, and by the sound of it, Doc could hear that there were several broken ribs pushing against his lungs.

Doc carefully shifted Marty fully into his arms and lifted him up, apologizing when the teen cried out in agony. "Sorry, but we've got to get you to a hospital,"

Marty nodded weakly, too tired and in pain to care at this point. He felt his vision going dark and his eyes began to droop shut. His whole body felt like it was made of lead.

Doc shook him gently. "No, no Marty! Stay with me, look at me kiddo,"

"Tired…" Marty mumbled, beginning to pass out.

Doc shook him again. "No, you have to stay awake, please!" He carefully laid Marty down on the passenger's seat of the car, getting in the driver's side and pulling the door shut. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator and sped off down the road. "Just keep talking to me Marty!"

"Th-they… hurt my d-dad…" Marty murmured weakly, wincing every now and then as the DeLorean drove over a bump in the road. "He w-was in a … wheelch-chair…"

"As soon as you're better, we can fix this mess," Doc assured, reaching across and squeezing the teenager's hand. "Just hang in there,"

Marty's vision was going dark again. "It hurts…"

"I know it does, but just stay awake!" Doc shook his shoulder again, trying to keep the teenager from passing out. "Come on, stay with me!"

"Tryin'..." Marty shifted ever so slightly and let out a sharp cry, his face twisted in pain. "Augh!"

"Don't move," Doc said as he kept driving. "Don't move, you'll hurt yourself more,"

Marty nodded weakly and instead kept his gaze fixed firmly on the road in front of him. The dashes of paint on the asphalt made his head spin and his eyes drifted shut.

Doc began to panic even more and shook his head, tapping his hand against the side of Marty's face a couple of times. "No no no don't close your eyes. Just look at me, alright. Look at me."

Marty turned his head to the left and tried to keep his gaze on the scientist next to him. "'kay…"

"That's it! You're doing so well! Just keep looking at me, okay? We're nearly there!" Doc encouraged as he rounded the corner and skidded to a halt in the hospital parking lot. He rushed out, grabbing the keys, shutting the door and running around to the passenger's side. He yanked the door open and lifted Marty into his arms. The teenager let out a yell again as Doc kicked the door shut and locked the car.

"Sorry, kiddo, just hang in there!" Doc carefully rushed towards the main entrance. A few screams came from various visitors as he burst in through the doors. Nurses and doctors immediately rushed over and Marty was taken from him. The teenager was laid down on a bed and wheeled swiftly down the hall.

Taking a few deep breaths, Doc decided he had no choice but to just sit down and wait for news on his friend's condition. He decided that it was best he didn't contact anyone, just in case it had any effect on this timeline. He received a few odd looks from other people as he sat there. He had just burst through the front doors, carrying a horrifically wounded teenager, after all. His hair was sticking up in all directions and he cringed as he looked down at his coat, noticing traces of blood upon it. He quickly took it off and went outside to put it in the DeLorean.

The car had also received some odd looks. People noticed just who the car belonged too and decided to ask no more questions. He sat down on the driver's seat of the car and laid back, trying to contemplate what had just happened. Obviously, something they'd done in 1931 had affected 1985 and produced this timeline. Marty had told him that the Tannens were involved somewhere, so maybe this had something to do with Kid Tannen. As he thought about it, Doc realised that Kid had never been put behind bars like he was supposed to. That would have led to him being able to raise more Tannens and causing the family to become California's fifth most dangerous crime family. While that didn't seem like much of an achievement, it was obviously enough to shatter their timeline - and Marty's life.

Doc shuddered a little as he thought about what the McFlys must have gone through. Up until the point of their return, the Marty from this timeline must have seen some pretty harrowing things. His father had been injured badly enough to be put in a wheelchair and clearly the Tannens had some sort of grudge against the teenager too. From what he'd managed to dig up from old newspapers, Marty had been run out of Hill Valley back at the end of 1983. That's why he decided to go back to the McFly family home, in case Marty ran into any trouble. It was a good thing he did, too. He shuddered to think how long Marty would have been laying there if he hadn't turned up.

After quite a while, Doc got out the car and headed back to the hospital, sitting down in the waiting room. He flattened his hair down and tried to calm his nerves. Holding a hand out in front of him, he noticed he was shaking. He took a deep breath and folded his hands in his lap, waiting for one of the doctors to come out and tell him how Marty was doing. In the meantime, he cast his eyes around the waiting room. Only a few other people were there; a few young kids, a woman talking on the phone and someone reading a newspaper. The waiting room itself was a faded off-white colour; several patches of the paint were peeling off, the carpet was faded and a few small marks were on one wall, possibly from someone kicking a ball against it at some point. Deciding not to be nosy, Doc settled back in the chair and tried to relax.

It seemed like days before a doctor finally came over to him. "Doctor Brown?"

Doc immediately looked up. "Yes? How is he?"

"Well… come with me, I'll explain," The doctor gestured for Doc to follow him. The pair walked down the hall and into a separate room. Once the doctor closed the door, he turned to face Doc. "He has eight shattered ribs, a severe concussion and one of his legs is badly bruised. His left arm has a hairline fracture. It seems as though he was hit mostly on his abdomen and head, and tried to shield himself with his arms. We're not sure how long it will take for him to recover."

The doctor showed Doc some x-rays that had been taken. He pointed out the teen's broken ribs, although he didn't need to. They were as clear as day, indicating that they must have been hit pretty hard in order to be broken like that. Doc cringed. "When will I be able to see him?"

"Right away, although," the doctor lowered his voice. "Everyone in Hill Valley knows what happened to him two years ago. You do realise that if the Tannens find out about this, it'll mean trouble."

"I'm willing to make that risk," Doc replied, getting to his feet. "Where is he?"

The doctor frowned a little and showed Doc up a flight of stairs and into a ward. "He's in room five," the doctor said as he headed swiftly out of the double doors. Doc took a deep breath and walked down the hallway towards room five. Grasping the handle, he pushed the door open.

Marty was lying fast asleep in the single bed in the room, looking pale and fragile. Both of his arms were laid over the covers, one wrapped in bandages, the other with an IV in it. The thin tube led from his arm and up to a bag with a clear liquid in it. An oxygen mask covered his face and his snores were muffled slightly. A nasty scrape was visible on his head, just below the bandages and his arms were covered in dark purple-black bruises. He had a black eye and his face had a few smaller bruises on it too.

Doc sighed and took a seat next to Marty's bed, his head in his hands. The shock still coursed through his body, making him feel disorientated and dizzy. This couldn't be happening, could it? No, this was all a dream. Just a very intense dream, that's all. He'd wake up any minute now, next to Clara, and Marty would be safe and sound at home. The teen would probably come over that day to work on something, or even just to say hi. No matter what he did, he wouldn't be lying badly injured in a hospital bed.

Oh, who was he kidding? This was all real, every bit of it. This meant that they would have to go back to 1931 and make sure Kid Tannen was arrested, otherwise, this future would stay reality. He was grimly reminded of the "1985A" scenario a little while ago where Marty's almanac had fallen into Biff's hands, allowing him to win at any and every bet he placed. The sheer amount of power Biff had was enough to remind them that letting the Tannens have the upper hand at any given moment was a mistake. They would have to go back and make sure Kid got arrested. That way, he wouldn't be around to cause any problems for _anyone_ in Hill Valley.

After, of course, Marty woke up.

The scientist looked at the teenager again. Marty was frowning and murmuring something in his sleep, clearly distressed. Doc's eyebrows creased and he shook Marty's shoulder gently. "Marty? Come on, wake up,"

Marty frowned and shook his head a little. "Mom… I don't wanna go to school…" he murmured quietly, causing Doc to chuckle.

"No, Marty, it's me. Come on, open your eyes,"

Marty groaned a little and his eyes fluttered open. "Doc…? That you…?"

"Yes, I'm right here," Doc squeezed his uninjured hand. "How do you feel…?"

"Sick… like really freaking sick…" Marty muttered. "My head's spinning and I feel like shit,"

Doc rubbed his thumb across Marty's hand. "You'll feel better soon. As soon as we get back to 1931, none of this will ever have happened,"

Marty nodded a bit, then instantly regretted it as another wave of dizziness swept over him. "Urgh…"

Doc sighed. "Thank God I found you when I did,"

Marty nodded slightly in agreement. "Yeah, who knows how long I would have been lying there. I might've died,"

The scientist shuddered a little bit. "Please don't think like that,"

Marty frowned. "Sorry…"

Doc shook his head. "Just try and get some rest. As soon as you're able to walk again we're going back to 1931 and fixing this mess,"

Marty gulped. "But what if the Tannens figure out that I'm here and come back to finish the job?"

"They'll have to get through me first," Doc winked and showed the teenager a small pistol he had hidden on the inside of his jacket pocket.

The teenager's eyes widened a little. "You wouldn't actually shoot anyone, would you?!"

"I'll try not to, only if it's absolutely necessary," Doc replied. "Now just try and get some sleep,"

Marty nodded and settled back into the pillows, shutting his eyes. Doc let go of his hand and got up, heading towards the door. He had to make sure that the Tannens weren't coming anywhere near them. He checked both sides of the hallway and, satisfied that they were clear, took a seat on the windowsill by Marty's bed. Rain was starting to fall, hitting the glass and trailing down, the drops merging the further down they got. Small pools collected on the ridge of the window before falling down. Somewhere in the distance, thunder echoed and lightning flashed. Doc pulled the curtains shut and sat on the floor, resting against the wall.

A nurse knocked on the door quietly a few moments later. "Sir?"

Doc got to his feet. "Yes? Come in,"

The door was pushed open, revealing a nurse in her thirties, with brown, wavy hair. "Mr McFly needs to wake up, I need to check on him,"

Doc nodded and shook the teenager's shoulder gently. "Marty? C'mon, you need to wake up,"

Marty groaned and pulled his eyes open. "Oh, what now? I was just drifting off,"

"I know, but I need to check on your vitals," The nurse replied. She looped a band around Marty's arm and pressed a button on the machine. It tightened, before loosening gently. She also checked his temperature. Once she was finished, she seemed satisfied that he was alright. "Everything is normal, I'll take this IV out but the cannula will have to stay in just in case you need something else later,"

Marty nodded. "'kay." The nurse carefully removed the IV and took the empty bag away. She gave the teen one last check over before heading out again.

Marty groaned and settled back into the covers. "Can I get some sleep now?"

Doc chuckled. "Yeah, go on."

Marty sighed and closed his eyes again, starting to drift off. Doc gave his hand a squeeze before settling back in the chair. It had been a long day. They'd spent the better part of the day in 1931 trying to deliver the subpoena and then Marty had returned home, only to be beaten up by the Tannens and hospitalised. Doc thought that it would be best if he stayed awake to make sure nobody turned up in the middle of the night, but his exhaustion soon caused him to pass out too.

….

Doc woke to the sound of someone yelling. His eyes snapped open and he was met with the bright-red, angry face of Biff Tannen. His two brothers were standing either side of Marty's bed. The scientist scolded himself for falling asleep. How could he have done this?!

"What on Earth do you think you're doing?!" Biff snapped. "Bringing that little shit here!"

Doc stood to his full height of six-foot-one, a harsh glare on his face. "Saving his life, the life _you_ nearly took from him," He replied. "Now, kindly get out,"

Biff snarled vituperatively. "Oh no, that ain't happening until that kid is six feet under!"

Doc was quick as a flash as he whipped the pistol from his pocket, pressing it to Biff's forehead. "Get out. Now."

Biff snarled and his two brothers were at his side immediately, weapons of their own drawn. Marty was sat bolt upright in bed, petrified. The three Tannens each held their weapons against the scientist's head. "Go ahead," Cliff sneered. "Just shoot,"

Doc froze. No matter who he shot, there would still be two Tannens left to pull the trigger on his own head. Then Marty would have no-one. He gulped.

Biff sneered. "Well, you're outnumbered."

Doc's glance shifted quickly to the teenager, who was watching the scene unfold in front of him in horror. Biff noticed his gaze and looked behind him at Marty. He laughed. "Don't worry, that kid's getting what's coming to him,"

The three Tannens advanced on Doc, pushing him further against the wall. At the moment, they all had their backs to Marty. The teenager made a split-second decision. He carefully got out of the bed, trying to hold back a wince as he put pressure on his injured leg. He winked at Doc and the scientist continued to focus his attention on the Tannens as to not draw attention to Marty. Marty grabbed the nearby IV stand and picked it up. Taking a deep breath, he swung it at the Tannen's head. Cliff was knocked clean out, plaster exploded from the wall from a gunshot and amidst the confusion, Doc slammed the handle of the pistol down on Biff's head while Marty hit Riff on the head with the IV stand. The three Tannens slid to the floor, clean out of it.

Several nurses had rushed into the room to see what all the commotion was about. In the centre of the room stood Doc holding a pistol, Marty in his hospital gown still clutching the IV stand and three unconscious men lying on the floor. The nurses gasped a little and exchanged looks between themselves.

Only now did Doc notice what Marty had done. "Great Scott… good thinking Marty!"

Marty grinned a little and set the IV stand back down, only to let out a sharp cry and clutch his side. Doc put the pistol back in his pocket and rushed over, helping Marty back into the bed. The nurses took the three unconscious Tannens from the room and left to call the police. Doc pulled the blanket back up over the teenager as Marty laid down again, still gritting his teeth.

"As grateful as I am for you doing that," said the scientist. "You shouldn't have gotten out of bed. You're still injured."

"I know," Marty replied. "But they were gonna shoot you. I couldn't just sit there and do nothing, could I?"

Doc sighed and sat on the edge of his bed. "I suppose not, but even so, you should not have risked your own health in order to help me,"

Marty shook his head. "I'd never forgive myself if I just sat there and watched you get killed,"

Doc squeezed his shoulder. "Well at least now you can get some decent rest,"

Marty yawned and nodded a bit, relaxing into the pillow and shutting his eyes. "'Night,"

"Goodnight," Doc got up from the side of the bed and took a seat in the chair as Marty drifted off. He too laid back and it wasn't long before he fell asleep.

…..

Forty hours later, Marty was able to be released from the hospital, being given strict instructions to take it easy. However, both he and Doc knew that the chances of that happening were very slim. They still had to make sure that Kid Tannen was arrested back in 1931, after all. As soon as Marty left the hospital, Doc was waiting outside with the DeLorean. He honked the horn a couple of times. "Come on Marty!"

Marty walked over, still being mindful of his injuries. He pulled the passenger door open and got inside. "Let's go and make sure this never happens,"

Doc nodded and with a grin, put his foot on the accelerator. The car pulled out of the parking lot and onto the open road. Marty entered the necessary information and Doc sped up. Once the car hit eighty-eight miles per hour, it disappeared in a flash of blue and the pair went back to 1931 in order to fix their future...


	5. A helping hand

**October 3rd, 1986.**

 **2:30pm**

Despite being a hundred years apart in terms of origin, Marty had always gotten on well with Clara. He'd noticed over the past few months that she and Doc really did have a lot in common. Thier enthusiasm for science, love of books and just their general personalities fitted together like a well-designed jigsaw puzzle. Doc had made it clear to her that Marty was like family to him, and she'd welcomed him with open arms. Jules and Verne were like younger brothers to him, too. It really seemed as though he fitted in better with the Brown family than with his own.

Currently, the pair were walking through the streets of Hill Valley town centre, collecting odd bits and bobs for various things, be it household or scientific.

"I need to stop off at the baker's, newsagents, hardware shop and the grocer's." Clara looked at the piece of paper she was holding in her hands. She looked at the young man walking beside her. "Thank you for helping me out with this, Marty,"

Marty smiled. "It's no trouble at all, ma'am,"

Clara laughed. "Marty, I told you, you don't have to address me as that anymore, please just call me Clara,"

Marty chuckled. "Alright, _Clara,"_

Clara smirked. "Better,"

Marty looked at the list in her hands, before looking back at her. "How long will Doc be away?"

"Another week," Clara responded. "He's over in Britain helping somebody with some vehicle modifications. He said he'd be back by the eleventh,"

Marty nodded. "And neither Jules nor Verne have driver's licenses, well, not yet anyway,"

"Exactly. They were too busy with their video games anyway,"

"Are you sure they can be left at home?" Marty asked.

"They're fine," Clara waved aside the question. "Einstein's with them anyway,"

The town wasn't too busy for a Saturday morning. There were a few people out jogging, walking dogs, having a coffee at the local cafe. The pair walked into the baker's, where Clara bought two loaves of bread, an iced bun and two jam tarts for her kids. She'd asked if Marty wanted anything, but he insisted that he was fine. With the items stored in a carrier bag, they walked over to the newsagents.

As always, the queue waiting to post parcels was massive, due to the fact that an elderly lady was trying to compare the different ways of posting a parcel the size of a DVD. Frustrated groans came from several people in the queue as they were delayed even further. Marty hid a small smirk as he walked past them, glad he wasn't standing in that queue.

Clara bought the stamps she needed and collected the parcel. It was rather large and heavy, so Marty offered to carry it for her. He took the parcel in both his arms and sank slightly under its weight.

"Thank you," Clara smiled. "It's some spare parts for one of Emmett's experiments, goodness knows what they'll do,"

"Probably something crazy and dangerous," Marty chuckled. "Most of what he builds usually is,"

Clara laughed at that, before heading to the hardware store. "Marty,"

"Yeah?"

"You're more likely to know what any of these are," she showed him the list of equipment. It was clearly Doc's handwriting as it was scrawled, messy and barely legible. "Would you mind getting them for me?"

"Sure thing," Marty set the parcel down and took the list. "I'll be back in a minute,"

Clara smiled, waiting outside with the parcel while Marty entered the shop. It was fairly small, packed from floor to ceiling with boxes, tools, trays of bolts and other such things. Glancing at the piece of paper, Marty read the list:

-¾" wrench

-4mm bolts 25pk

-500ml spray paint can - black

-1-litre bottle coolant (cheapest will do)

-4mm crosshead screwdriver

Marty grabbed a basket and began picking out the things from the list. He was just reaching up for the coolant when Biff walked in.

"Oh hey, Marty!" The repairman grinned. "Funny seeing you here!"

Marty held back a groan as he answered. "Hey, Biff." He wasn't entirely used to this type of Biff. Sure, it was much better than the 1985A Biff or even Biff from the original timeline, but that didn't make him any less annoying.

Biff grinned and grabbed two bottles of coolant, handing one to the young man. "Here you go! I saw you couldn't quite reach so I got it for you!"

"Thanks, Biff," Marty smiled weakly, before getting the screwdriver and going to pay for everything. Another reason why he hated being only 5"4', others had to reach things on shelves he couldn't quite get to. He grabbed the shopping bag and went out to join Clara.

"Good," Clara ticked off another thing from her list of chores and began heading back across the town square towards the grocer's. Marty stuffed the parcel into the bag with the hardware stuff and followed her.

The grocer's had boxes and boxes of fresh fruit and vegetables on display outside, with various prices per pound for each item painted on the box. Clara took some paper bags and started filling them up.

The greengrocer, Mr Davis, soon came out with a fresh crate of oranges. "Good afternoon, ma'am," he nodded.

Clara smiled in return. "Good afternoon,"

"Hey," Marty waved, grinning. One by one, Clara handed the grocery bags to Marty while she continued getting more. The teenager was starting to become a little overburdened with the sheer amount of things he had to carry. Soon, thankfully, Clara had paid for everything, taken half of the bags herself and the pair were on their way back to Marty's truck. He shoved the bags in the back and got into the driver's seat, Clara joining him.

Automobiles were still something that fascinated Clara, even after having been around them since December. Doc had shown her how they worked but even then they were incredible. As Marty started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, she made sure her seatbelt was fastened and gripped the seat.

Marty shot her a glance out the corner of his eye. "You okay?"

"Yes, I'm still not quite used to the motion of these vehicles, though," Clara replied. She kept her vision firmly on the road ahead as Marty drove back towards the Brown family home. Upon arrival, the pair got out and collected the bags from the back of the truck as Marty locked it, then they walked up to the front door. Clara opened it and they both set the bags down in the kitchen.

Jules approached the young man. "Martin, I require your opinion on something. Would it be more beneficial for me to use the personal computer in order to continue to develop my research into the microbiology of bacterium, or for my sibling to waste his time playing meaningless interactive video simulations?"

Marty's face went blank for a moment as he tried to work out what on Earth Doc's eldest son just said. "Well, how long have you been using the computer?"

"Three hours now. Verne has not used it today, yet he demands that he should be the one to utilise it currently," Jules replied without missing a beat.

"Well, why not save the work you've already done and then let Verne play the game for a few hours?" Marty suggested.

"I told you!" Another shout came from the stairwell and Verne's smug face poked around the doorframe. "See! Marty agrees with me!"

The young man laughed. "So I'd say it's your turn now, Verne,"

"Yes!" The younger Brown sibling disappeared upstairs again and Jules let out a groan.

"Perhaps the reason you usually favour Verne is because you yourself are a younger sibling,"

Marty shrugged and started helping Clara put the groceries away. "Perhaps, but you two are seriously like younger brothers to me, so I feel somewhat responsible for making sure you're both happy,"

Jules sighed. "I suppose I will have to agree with you."

Marty ruffled his hair, to which Jules protested loudly. "Exactly."

Clara smirked at seeing the boys interact. Marty did have this sort of older brother charm to him when he was around her kids. Maybe that's what made her see him as one of her own.


End file.
